


Ocean Breeze

by grumpyphoenix



Series: Brain Salad [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Beta Read, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix/pseuds/grumpyphoenix
Summary: Harry is someplace he'd rather not be when he smells a distressed Omega. Of course, he charges right in.





	Ocean Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> Beach, Mystery, A/B/0 Friction, accidental contact  
> http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/prompts

The MacGuffin Foundation’s annual “Paradise Retreat’ was always popular with the Wizarding elite, but this year everyone with even a hint of ties to the death-eaters were trying their hardest to shine. Harry seemed to be the spokesman for ‘changing times’, whether he wanted to or not. He really did not want to go. 

“You can’t just send them a bag of gold,” Hermione’d chided him, obnoxiously in the right, “If other people know you’re going, they’ll go as well.”

By the fourth night, he had to sneak out of the formal ball held on the beach. He needed to get away from the press of people, even if many of them had been schoolmates. Especially since many of them had been schoolmates. The one person he wanted to see had been ducking him all week anyway.

The beach is lit only by torches, the flames flickering in a light tropical breeze. Despite himself, Harry feels relaxed here, with only the sounds of the ocean and the distant party. The winds shift, and he catches a scent and a sound riding them, almost undetectable, but unmistakable. Distressed Omega. Despite how faint both are, he doesn’t have a problem following them. Something about the smell is compelling and familiar, but with the strong wind, he can’t quite place it. It puts him on edge, reminding him of decades old fears.

The sounds of crying lead him to a deserted section of beach, lit only by the stars. Raising his wand for light, Harry can see a hole in the ground with rotten wooden planks jutting out from piles of sand. An old pirate bolt hole then, discovered by an unlucky Omega. The blue light from his wand glints off the slick of blood. Crouching and leaning forwards, he pushes the wand down into the hole to see what he can see, and gets a noseful. Old dank air, rotting wood, moldy hemp rope, and the full blast of distressed Omega. There is no wind, so he is not spared any details in a rush of nostalgia that confuses his senses.  _ Library dust, the hot sparks from a bonfire, crisp green apples, ozone… _ his pulse starts to hammer with lust and fear.  Beneath him, he can hear the Omega call out for help, a note of relief riding on top of a whine of pain.

Lying down on his stomach, he leans as far as he dares, calling out, “Draco!”

The light of his wand catches the bright flash of platinum blonde hair and wide pale eyes, softened with tears. They narrow. “This figures. Of course it’s you that finds me.”

Harry chokes out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Hold on, Draco. You’re not too far down, I can levitate you out. Where’s your wand, anyway?”

Draco snaps, “Back off, Potter, the wood is rotten, you’ll fall in.”

His scent sharpens, and Harry’s nostrils flare. Fear, concern. Is … is Draco worried about him? Beneath his body, the ancient planks groan and splinter, breaking under him with alarming speed.  Well honed reflexes keep him flexible enough not to tense as he goes, catching hold of what must have once been a rope ladder on the way down and using it to slow his descent even as it disintegrates under his hands.

He lands and rolls, finally coming to a stop on top of Draco. He looks down into his face, dirt and sand pouring off of him like a shower. Draco grunts with the weight, but takes all of it, refusing to look up at Harry. He also doesn’t ask him to move.

“So much for the big strong Alpha save,” Draco mutters, “now what?”

Harry carefully disengages, getting off Draco with a reluctance he refuses to acknowledge. Squinting up at the hole, he can see the stars. Now what, indeed.


End file.
